I'll Be Seeing You
by Prunella
Summary: He thinks it's true love. True, he doesn't know what her favorite color is, what food she likes to eat, what she thinks about his favorite stories, or what she likes in bed...yet. He still thinks it's true love. He knows it's true love. Eros&Psyche.
1. Is that so

_Author's Note: As a sappy romantic at heart, I couldn't help but love the epic tale of Eros and Psyche. Please enjoy yourself, and do feel free to tell me what you think!_

_(Revamped, 3/3-5/08)_

* * *

_One_

* * *

Quite honestly, I think I'm a little lost, on this wandering path we call life.

I feel like I'm acting in a horrible tragedy, when I can't even act.

Well, I don't think I've ever tried acting.

Do they not have anything better to do? The followers have been out there since morning.

Even though I am alone, I can still hear the titles and poems and hymns, drawn with my name, loudly in my head.

In my opinion, my "divine" beauty might as well be a curse.

So, my skin is "porcelain-like," my eyes resemble the "sparkling, chameleon waters of the sea" (my eyes are just a deep blue, that is all), and my hair "glistens and glimmers like virgin gold shavings" (my hair doesn't even look like gold), and apparently my figure is "_beyond_ perfect."

People call me beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful. A remarkable beauty.

Why is it that everyone has a name for me, except for myself?

People go as far to claim that I was fairer than _the _Aphrodite herself, offering the customary sacrifices to _me_ instead of to the goddess. I do hope she forgives me.

It is beyond irritating during strolls to have people bow courteously deep and pile flowers along the path that I walk.

No one looks at me the same...ever since my thirteenth birthday.

Everyone sees me as a divine beauty, and they all go out of their way to ensure their mask of polite courteousness stays intact.

Everyday, every instant, I hear the followers outside the walls of my home—my family's palace.

I admit I feel lonely…I don't think I have any friends now. It's beyond frustrating to look at the tops of their heads when they talk to me. It's not as if they even talk to me about interesting things, anyway.

Of course I feel jealous of my sisters, when their hands were given in marriage. I'm sure they have much more excitement and happiness in their lives.

I need somebody to bring excitement and happiness into my life. I cannot stand this sort of bland existence. I do not want to keep spending my days walking around the palace wings.

Honestly, even our garden is crowded with watchful eyes of the followers!

I feel tired and weary when someone flatters me (yet again) on my appearance. I would much rather they say "you're a lovely musician, dear" or even "you are quite the eccentric lady, Psyche."

I find no meaning in my life. I don't want to live so shallowly, where my whole existence is based on my appearance! I don't even know what kind of life I want to live. I don't even know who I am, and what kind of life I need! There's nothing remarkable about me. I don't have any special (not physical) trait I'm really known for. I don't even think I have a talent. I don't think anyone even talks to me out of a good heart.

At least they don't ask for blessings. Yet.

* * *

I really do love my mother.

Really.

Truly.

Most of the time, anyway.

But perhaps just not _now_.

Not just because she was throwing a temper tantrum, but because she was _beyond_ furious.

No one wants an angered goddess…an angered _Aphrodite_ no less.

The most important part was not because she was angry, but because she had discovered someone else that was more beautiful than her.

Oh, the horror. What has the world come to. Where is the justice. Yes, there is no justice. Blah, blah, blah.

My mother, ironically, looks like the most gentle, most peaceful, and most loving woman in all the lands. Her fair skin and light blue eyes give her this sort of...look. It's not something that can be described easily with words.

"No. No. _No._ I will not allow this, this, _this_ to continue! I don't want this girl walking around the living earth without shame!"

Mother is known for her short temper among her fellow gods.

I nod absentmindedly and take a sip of wine from my goblet.

My brother Anteros sighs at my mother's wrath. I suppose he feels sorry for the unfortunate maiden that was fated for this destiny.

My brother and I are quite similar in ways; not only on account of our appearance (his hair was only a smidgen bit longer than mine, and his eyes were green, while mine were a brown color), but perhaps on our track of thought, too.

Our work with mortals, however, is a different story for another day.

"Something, _something_, must be done with this girl! This mortal _must_ be humiliated and put to shame!"

Meaning: she is going to use us, like she always does, to get rid of her little troubles. I've stopped trying to be angry about that. It's the same situation over and over again, anyway.

My mother massages her temples. Then—

"Yes! I have it! I know what I shall do with the girl!"

Mother, you do the same thing with all the beautiful girls.

My brother rolls his eyes. I can practically hear him thinking, _'What now?'_

Her slanted eyes take on this odd glint, and her brows angle in this strangely exotic way. I suppose I could describe it as almost enticing, in a very disturbed sense.

Well, it's my opinion, anyway.

Looking straight at Mother's face is difficult, really. It is like an annoyingly bright, _bright_, ray of…sexual beauty that hits one directly in the face. Analyzing Mother's beauty disturbs me, but, it's like the kind of beauty popular prostitutes have, but much more…refined and exaggerated, I suppose. She has this sort of glow to her, too. Her appearance is just...

Yes, very high impact. Yes, _there_.

Not _me_! Nor my brother, of course.

"Eros."

"…Yes, mother?"

My dear brother sighs and takes a bite of a biscuit. I think there's some sort of blueberry sauce drizzled on it. I love blueberries. I want one of those biscuits, too!

Mother's pacing around the chamber, and her perfume is really starting to bother me. I suppose one could say it was…_distracting_.

She has this uncanny ability to _be_ angry without really _looking_ angry, too. She looks as…_sexual_ as ever. It is quite mind-boggling.

"You will do me a favor, son."

"What favor?"

She also has this uncanny ability to rapidly wrinkle one down to one's toes. My brother and I call it "ejaculation in the _worst_ possible way."

"Oh, I think you know what to do, dear. I want this beautiful maiden to fall in love with some atrocious creature."

"Which one?"

"Come here, look. That's her, sitting on the bench beside the roses. You should be able to find this maiden. Her name is Psyche."

"…"

"Oh, let me see, Mother."

"…Mother, must I?"

"You _know_ you must."

The both of us can't help but flinch at her uncanny abilities.

"…Yes, Mother. I shall be on way."

"As always, report back to me, dear!"

Mother is so helplessly childish.

Really, couldn't she solve her own problems herself, and _not_ have her sons waiting on her? One would think that, being a goddess, it makes one capable of taking control of complex situations. Especially, when one has hundreds of devout servants and unusually powerful uncanny abilities. Oh, but of course; only if one really does not possess the average intelligence.

(Honestly, Mother is very…_oblivious_ with things.)

My brother and I have endured enough of her ramblings, but still, I suppose it was rather amusing sometimes.

She is _so_ childish.

I, on the other hand, pride myself on having a youthful spirit. However, having a youthful spirit and being childish are always two different things.

Love shouldn't be the demise of people; mortals and immortals alike. She should be the one who knows this best.

* * *

I slip out of my normal dress and step into my nightgown. It is a soft, creamy attire that is ideal for sleeping. Usually the calm night is when I could actually relax.

Really, I'm not as depressed as I might have sounded earlier. I'm actually quite a happy person.

People can never fight loneliness.

I do love the night. The stars are glorious, and the moon is so serene and peaceful.

I stride outside of my chamber and out to the balcony. It is a very beautiful nighttime, with the stars winking, and the lovely moon beaming happily at the mortal universe.

I sigh and walk back in.

"Please, Airlia, I'll take care of combing out my hair tonight. You've had a tiring day; you should retire for now."

"Yes, miss."

She exits the room, and I sit down on my stool, facing the vanity table. I take my ivory comb (sixteenth birthday present) and start to release my hair from their plait.

I don't understand why I have to look like this everyday. All I really do is sit around in the courts and try to pay attention to the followers. I don't even understand why I actually try to pay attention to the followers. Polite? Common courtesy? Why? Am I supposed to be polite as the "divine beauty"?

That's only two days a week, though. I am bored _out of my mind_ the rest of the days.

I comb out my hair and slide my fingers through it, savoring the last quiet moments I have before tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be an important day.

I sigh again; it would undoubtedly be a _long_ day.

* * *

My mother was right.

This maiden really is the loveliest woman I've ever laid my eyes on.

And I have seen more than my fair share of lovely ladies.

It wasn't only her face and her figure. There was something in her angled, beautiful eyes (they were an astonishingly deep blue, with twinkles that would have put Poseidon's seas to shame) and some _glow_ of…divinity that I just couldn't place.

Her hair is really a nice color. Looks really soft, too. It's not hard to imagine the tresses curling along the contours of my fingers…

She sets down her comb and shakes her hair free. Psyche walks towards her bed, moving with fluid grace.

Perhaps it really was best that I wasn't visible to her eyes. I was this transparent form outside her windows, hovering near the balcony. (Her tapestries aren't closed.)

The maiden looks young; probably around my age. (We immortals usually stay around our mid-twenties, in the golden stages of our youth.)

A single tear slipped under her thick lashes and down her cheek.

She swipes it away, and lays down into the blankets and pillows, nestling deep into them.

This girl really is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

I seldom feel serious about anything…I am perhaps the least serious one in Mt. Olympus.

Truthfully, I hold pride in that.

Perhaps I was not the best one to be trusted with arrows that toyed with the hearts of mortals and immortals. I do like to think that I have "grown up."

Yes, it has taken a while.

Frankly speaking, I spend most of my days gazing down upon the realm of mortals, flitting around here and there, shooting a few arrows at the woman with the hooked nose here and at that ridiculously bald young man over there.

Mortals were _so_ naïve, _so_ selfish, and so _fun_ with their easily-manipulated hearts.

I always find great amusement in downgrading (in which this quality I also take great pride in)—or, perhaps putting the _especially_ vain and proud in their rightful places.

Like Apollo, that pompous ass. Honestly, he needed to be taught a lesson.

Really, love changes people for the better.

I watch her drift slowly to sleep, and I let myself into her bedchamber…hovering above the floors with my wings fluttering softly.

Maybe I can attempt to cheer and ease the girl out of her earlier distress.

I blow lightly at her ear, and the honey strands of her hair spill across her cheek.

She giggles slightly, scrunching her neck up in reflex.

My smile spreads into a full grin.

(I smiled?)

I kneel at her bed skirts…I feel as if I have lived to this moment, just to see...Psyche. The desire of ages. The sacred beauty of a lifetime. The game of the century.

I should be the only one to ensure her a lasting happiness.


	2. Not necessarily

_Author's note:_ _HAPPY EARLY VALENTINES' DAY, ALL!_ _So, to celebrate Love's busiest day of the year, here's a new chapter. Anyways, thank you's and much love to all the readers that take the time to read and review my story! You all get a humungo box of Valentines' Chocolates and a cluster of pink and white balloons._

Source here for the "oracle speech":

_(Revamped, 3/5-6/10)_

* * *

_Two_

* * *

Finding the love of one's life is not an easy ordeal. I don't think the oracle can actually give me the love of my life, though.

I really should stop being so skeptical about the oracle.

My parents were—are—deeply perplexed on why I had no suitors when people (who believe that "someone so beautiful would have to be Aphrodite herself") admired me so much.

I have never had a suitor to call on. Not even one.

I don't think I'm a horrible person. I know I have my tempers, but I can be generally pleasant.

Oh, I don't know anymore. If I was generally pleasant, people would actually like me, wouldn't they?

I'm not sure if I'm even accepted by society.

My maids finish decorating my hair, and I take a step back from the mirror to observe my reflection.

Airlia, one of my closest maids, smiles and sighs.

"Miss, every girl would do anything to be you."

I smile wryly.

They would do anything to look like me, probably.

Some are jealous, and not all of the followers are friendly.

Everyone wants to bask in the clouds of love.

I smile, anyway. I should be excited. Today was the day where I may finally find someone that I could spend the rest of my life with.

Airlia just grinned and sighed, once more.

* * *

"You have something for the girl, don't you?"

I look up from my perch. It's Anteros, with his blue gown (toga) billowing around him, regardless of the lack of a breeze.

"What's not to like about her? You, too, would have had something for her."

"Brother, are you sure that one of those damned arrows of yours didn't pierce yourself?"

It really is very probable, considering how my heart always speeds up whenever I think of _her_…as if it was taking flight along with my wings. Is this really love? The love that poets have sang for ages? The love that comes at so high a price? The love that transcends all boundaries?

I see her now: her peaceful face with the tender pink lips, her hand as she brushed her hair, her eyes as they darkened when her tear slipped down her fine-boned cheek.

I wondered how she would look like when she smiles. Or even when she laughs. Or even when she—

_Snap._

I blink and my head jerks back, just in time to hear my brother chuckle. Scowling, I realize that he had snapped his fingers right in front of _my_ beautiful face.

...I think I just sounded like my mother just then. Am I really that vain?

"No, my arrows didn't pierce my skin. They were securely strapped unto my back when I saw her!"

"Mmm. And it really just isn't because she is spanking-ly beautiful?"

"No. Well, yes, it was what attracted me in the first place…But it really isn't just lust."

"Really."

"_Yes_. You wouldn't understand."

"I don't think I would want to."

"Then you don't have to."

"Alright, well, I assume I should leave you to your obscure daydreaming and scheming, eh?"

"_Now_ would be nice."

"Hmph. How rude. Are you shooing me out? Well then, as your kind and caring brother, I shall wish you the best with your lucky damsel, and please, try to do _something_ about that licentious mind of yours. At least, go slow on the girl the first night."

The first night? Shouldn't I try to impress her the first night?

* * *

The priestess limps out of the holy inner chamber, and I snap out of my reverie.

I have been admiring the artwork adorning the temple walls.

I can't believe that we had been waiting out here for so long!

"My…lords, and ladies…Here…here is your…answer…obey this, and…carry it…out, as soon…as possible."

The woman teeters back and forth on the balls of her feet. She does, however, quickly steady herself by leaning on a nearby pole. She hands my father a slip of paper with shaking hands.

She's really quite young. She must have given up many things to live here in the secluded temple.

"The…mountain."

She blinks owlishly and speaks.

"_Let the maiden be placed on the top of a certain mountain_

_Adorned as for marriage and for death_

_Look not for a son-in-law of mortal birth; _

_He who will take her to his side_

_Is the serpent whom even the Gods are in dread of_

_And who makes the bodiless ones on the Styx afraid_."

Now,_ I_ blink owlishly.

(Really, what kind of verse is that?)

My mother gasps.

My father frowns.

The priestess nods and walks slowly back into the chambers. Her eyes look tired and weary.

What have I ever done to deserve such a fate? I have done nothing! Nothing wrong! I have never angered the gods in any way. Why have they forsaken me? I worship them daily and offer sacrifices! Especially Aphrodite, too! I pray to her for forgiveness everyday.

A serpent husband. Wonderful. Would he prefer to eat me the first moment I set eyes on him? Or would he prefer to force himself onto me and earn the honor of bedding "the most divine mortal maiden in Greece" so he can gloat to his friends in the sea?

My stomach churns with a feeling of dread, and I could feel my morning meal swirl inside.

I think I am dying.

My mother goes hysterical, and my father tries to ease her distress.

If it is the gods' will, then we have no choice than to do as they say.

The gods must find us amusing…they probably do spend some days watching our actions and mock us, like how we watch the plays performed in our theatres.

I would really rather get this all over with. My existence is anything but meaningful, anyway.

Hmm? What existence?

I'm probably going to be one of those names that are only written down in scrolls. Devoid of everything life offers.

Except, my life doesn't offer me anything.

* * *

It's a nice day, isn't it?

I smile.

Although, my heart _does_ ache at the sight of her, crestfallen. However, she will not be sad later on. I will make sure of it.

My plan will work! The mortals would never disobey an oracle, especially when a direct order is given.

I am standing outside my temple in the skies. Soon, she will be brought by my servant, Zephyrus. All the arrangements are complete.

My grin grows wider.

Spreading my wings and taking the arrows and bow from the floor, I take off to tend to my duties, with my mood growing happier by the second.

* * *

"Miss, this is the perfect dress. Please try it on."

Airlia hands me a bundle of some kind of silky, satin-like material.

My mother had finally gotten over her hysteria, and ordered the maids to swiftly change my clothes when we arrived home.

I step into it, feeling the cloth glide over my skin.

The gown is indeed a splendid one. The creamy, beige color loops around my neck, comes forward across my chest and fastens right beneath my breasts with a short girdle of ribbons that fit my waist.

Ribbons wind like lattice work, binding the cloth loosely to cover my breasts _just so_. My dress leaves my back bare, covering only the lower portion and beyond; the thin satin ribbons spread over my back in a cross-wise pattern. Ribbons keep the slits at the sides intact.

I frown a little; the loose dress cinches tight at the waist, but it looks too revealing for my taste.

Airlia applauded, grinning.

"I said it was the perfect dress."

Sighing, I succumb. I _am _supposed to be fit for the wedding that would be my death. First wonderful impressions must be made.

These are one of those times that my mind is just so clearly blank. I really can't find it in me to be emotional at all.

It's probably not a good thing.

Anyway, here we are, at the designated hill.

"Psyche, dear…"

"Daughter…"

I bid a teary Airlia goodbye and step over to my parents.

"Father, mother: please don't weep for me. Don't spend the rest of your lives grieving for me. Please take care of yourselves."

I embrace my father and mother—I don't believe I'll ever see them again.

I think I will welcome death as it is. I could have had a husband. I could have had a fulfilling life, really.

I walk carefully to the hilltop, waiting for my "serpent" groom (and my impending doom). That certainly does have a certain ring to it.

Then, a gentle breeze brushed across my face, sweeping my hair across my cheeks.

A man—no, _angel_, appeared.

All I could do was gape; was this my husband? The man had curly brown hair, laughing grey eyes, and a pair of large, white wings.

"Miss Psyche?"

"Y-yes, that is me…"

"I am Zephyrus, the gentle wind, servant of your, ah, new husband. My orders are to bring you to your new residence with him."

"I s-see…"

"Then, shall we go?"

"Of course."

How he was going to take me, I don't know, since he didn't have naught a chariot or carriage, but I s—

Instead, in the blink of the eye, Zephyrus swept me into his arms and soared off into the air.

This Zephyrus does not even feel like a real person; yes, he was solid, but his person is unnaturally warm, and I can feel a wind brush against my legs, blowing at my dress tenderly.

He wasn't called the gentle breeze for naught. I just never really expected to meet him.

Now, do know that humans, mortals, weren't meant to be in the air like this. Yet, I've wanted to see the world in a view like this. I always wondered how it would be like if I were a bird. It would be nice to see, but not be seen, wouldn't it?

Would I be able to see our villa? Our garden? Would I be able to look for my love from above? Again, that had a certain ring to it.

I grasp his arm and look over his shoulder down at the land.

It is so very picturesque; Greece looks gorgeous from up here. The greens of the fields, the blues of the rivers, and I can even see our acropolis!

I brace closer to him and lean out over his shoulder more as Zephyrus holds me tighter, for fear of me falling out of his grasp.

I sigh. "It must be nice to see this view everyday."

My carrier laughs heartily.

"Indeed it is."

"I wish I could see this everyay."

He chuckles. "Perhaps you could ask your new husband to take you for a flight like this sometime."

Before I could say anything more, however, we land.

I turn around as Zephyrus releases me. I'm really not surprised he's not there the moment I look back. Who is my husband, if my carriage is the wind?

It was such a marvelous building; it looked liked a large temple for an immortal.

I felt my sarcastic mood resurface; my husband stood out among others like an olive tree against the plain green grass.

Well, there's really no use looking back anyway. If I am going to die, I might as well die quickly and cleanly.


	3. Well, I

_Author's Note: I'm so so so sorry I wasn't able to update sooner. This is definitely my first priority, though. _

_Standard Disclaimer (if needed), applied._

_Have fun and thanks so much for reviewing. Very much love to all that are willing to take the time to read and review. You know I love to hear your opinions!_

_(Revamped, 6/11/08)_

* * *

_Three_

* * *

It technically isn't a temple. There are the elaborate marble columns, pristine steps, spirals of ribbons, and delicate flourishes of flowers, but it seems more like an empty, bleak dungeon.

The entire edifice is on a _cloud_, for goodness' sakes.

I sigh, and was about to run my hand through my hair when I realize that it is stiffly coiffed at the top of my head. Only a small handful runs down my back, so I twist the strands around my fingers, watching them purple under pressure.

Zephyrus was gone; there is no turning back. I probably wouldn't be stepping out of this _coffin_ any time soon.

There is no point in just standing here, either.

I square my shoulders and smooth the wrinkles out of my gown. I will not cry. I will not request mercy. I will show my _husband_ that I am not just some _trophy_ won by a lucky drawing; I can take whatever he finds in his interest to lash at me. I will not be afraid.

I walk with the best dignity I can muster--well, as much as I can walking on a _cloud_--to the steps of the building.

So, perhaps not a temple. One could consider it a _palace_.

I brush past the columns at the entrance and ignore the train of my gown that drags behind me.

It looks surprisingly empty, even though it is well lit with groups of tall, white candles perched on intricate silver stands. There is an alarming sense of space, as I realize how _enormous_ the whole thing was; and is that a staircase at the back?

The only object I see is a large hammock languidly stretched between two columns. It totally throws off the balanced distance between every one of the columns, but I suppose one could say that it definitely adds a nice touch to the whole place.

Hmm. It seems like there is a long loveseat with a small table at the other end, too.

I definitely didn't prepare myself for the quiet rush of wind from behind me and the delicate voice of a woman.

"Miss Psyche?"

I jumped literally _up_ off of the sleek marble floor. I'm…easily alarmed, really.

* * *

I grimace inwardly as I fly over the roof of a small cottage. There is bound to be some chaos in the mortal world. Soon.

I wasn't able to concentrate on my work today.

However, I did notice an extremely beautiful young blonde girl today. I'm trying to think of a…ah, _suitable_ match for her…her father seems to be thinking of a contest where the winner will be her future husband. Well, it shall be a few more years before she is of age for marriage.

I am usually very absorbed in my work, thank you. It's really very fun to watch the love bloom comically in a mortal's expression. Although, it's really not like all love stems from me. Usually love that doesn't bloom from my arrows are...well, fated to happen.

Or, love just happens, as it sometimes does.

I honestly can't wait to see my bride.

Does it not have a certain ring to it? My bride? The bride of Eros, the almighty god of love?

It sounds very nice, I think.

I even find myself humming a little tune. Just one more hour or so, and I'd finally be able to visit my bride. Well, I normally don't take breaks in between my work, but surely Mother wouldn't mind. She probably won't even notice.

She doesn't really pay much attention to anything, and she might as well never. She hasn't even remarked about Psyche, her most recent target. I think it is rather a good thing that she's focused on my bride for the time being; I don't think the other beautiful blonde would fare too well with my mother.

The girl is so young. Too young to be that attractive and for her father to think of her marriage; although her beauty would only grow with age…

Speaking of beauty...

It felt very strange to look at her and not feel just a bit tempted to woo her.

Well, of course, I never play around with the younger ones, but, it's usually all in good fun, and I never appear to them, or do anything with them, in fact...

I would usually be quite attracted to someone of her looks.

This is so very odd.

* * *

"I'm so very sorry to have startled you, miss!"

_Startled_ doesn't even cover the half of it.

"N-no, no, it's fine. It's just rather unnerving to, er, hear someone rather than seeing them first." I glance around, but I still can't find anybody around.

"Actually, miss, no one is able to see us. Not a soul. We are supposed to be just substances a bit more than wind, miss."

"Pardon me, but who…?"

"It's quite all right. We are the servants of this palace, miss."

Well. That's certainly a new notion.

"Would you like to take a look around the palace, miss? You are indeed the Lady of this, now."

"I'd…like that."

Of all the enormous rooms I looked around with the servant, the most interesting was my…new…chamber. It was so extremely large; decorated with the most expensive-looking furniture and accessories that I have ever seen.

Honestly! I vehemently swear on my word that there was gold woven in the curtains and tapestries!

I myself was very astounded at the different jars of cosmetics that lay innocently on the surface of my vanity.

Fragrant oils with a large variety of scents, vain balms of the rarest, and there were even a few bottles of some sweet-smelling tonic that I could only write off as _elixir_.

* * *

Finally. I should probably only stay for around half an hour before going back to my job. Yes, I know Mother usually doesn't allow breaks (as my brother and I don't exactly need them), but I'm not giving her so much a care at this point.

I spiral upward, avoiding the wispy clouds. They are very much a pain to fly through. My wings are quite sensitive and the moisture beads on them in quite a strange and unsightly way. It's also tiresome to shake the water off when I refold my wings.

I gain speed as the clouds soon clear away, and I'm much, much higher from ground. The sun is pleasant today, and I grudgingly admit that Apollo has taken care of Demeter's last winter nicely.

My palace comes into sight, and I fold my wings as I drop onto the surface. Technically, it's not really a cloud. I detest clouds.

I step into the ground floor of my dwelling and summon a servant. Their faces and appearance are wiped off by my mother, being the extremely jealous goddess she is.

She's just afraid of the fact that she's really not the most beautiful of all womankind.

The servant says that she is upstairs, and perhaps it's better that I respect her privacy for now, since—

I wave her off and, spreading my wings, I fly up the staircase and land in the hallway of the second floor.

Apparently, my bride is in the bath, as I am told by the sound of the gentle lappings of water, the warm light of the candles from the doorway, and the heady scent of roses.

This will, no doubt, prove to be very amusing.

Let the games begin.

* * *

I absent-mindedly sprinkle some more rose petals into the water. The golden platter filled with the petals floats gently away and I hide a slight grimace.

I honestly need to accustom myself to the servants.

The soft music of the lyre is quite pleasant in combination with the gentle voices of the women.

This is such an elaborate dwelling; the ceiling alone of this bath is filled with thousands of tiny, colored glass tiles that form a complete puzzle of an intricate serpentine pattern. The floor of the bath, too, is a mosaic of the jeweled pieces. Light shines through a large window with glass panels.

I look skyward through the glass and heaved a sigh.

It definitely appears that my death wouldn't be quick and clean.

What will become of me tonight?

I have seen none of my husband so far, and I try to reassure myself that he will only appear at night when necessary. I think he's notified of his new found wife, as I would probably not be here if he did not give his permission.

I sigh again, before scooping up some water and gently cleanse my face. I wipe off the excess water as the servant comes forward with another golden platter, this one piled with soft linens.

After my face is patted dry, I give the soiled linen back and sink further down into the fragrant waters. There is a large amount of petals on the surface, and the water ripples quietly from the movements of the fountain by my side.

The bath is indeed a very lovely place. It is very well-decorated with an elegant, youthful taste.

I especially like the view from the large window across from me, which is now shielded by the rosy curtains. I highly doubt anyone else is on this cloud.

There's also t—

What was that?

* * *

She's so immensely beautiful, and it makes me feel very proud that she's really all mine.

Alright, so not _quite_ all mine…

But that's only just a matter of time. I hope I don't do anything that would hurt her…It's the last thing I want to do. I've never been in _that_ kind of situation before where I care so much about the woman I'm making love to, but…I should have. Ah, well. There are always going to be other chances in the future for her t—

Actually, I might need a false name, don't I? Can't have her screaming my real name, although that really is quite the damper…

I'm ticking off several names in my head as I watch her in the bath from the doorway. She has her back to me, and all I can see is her pretty little head with her fair golden locks curled at the crown of her head in a bun.

Funny, her hair wasn't this curly everytime I visited her...

Did she take the effort to curl her hair for the occasion? Really, that's too sweet of her.

Alcander, Alexander, Anieli…

Attis, Avel, Avram…

Cleon, Cohn, Corban…

Deo, Dione, Dorian…

No. No. And no.

Krischnan, Lander, Leander…

Hmm, Leander. That sounds pleasant enough. …The lion man? That's…rather odd. It sounds savagely masculine, though…But, never mind.

Luke, Lykaios, Lysander…

Lysander? The liberator…!

Hmph. I need one that would sound well on those worthy lips of hers…

Teodor, Thanos, Tibalt…

When had I skipped so much?

Icarus, Isidore, Jace…

Jace sounded well enough. It seems a bit feminine, though…

She sighs and I turn my attention back towards her. I'm still standing in the doorway, leaning against the walls…A mortal won't be able to see me, though…And probably never will—I can't let her know who I am.

Lysander it is, then. Jace sounds a little familiar…I can't seem to remember much about the name, but it somehow reminds me of Apollo and sheep. I'm quite sure that it's not a good thing.

I set my bows and arrows down with a clatter and slip off my sandals.

She whips her head around and stares at me—she's really not, since her eyes are trying to find me, but I feel like those globes of blue are boring into my soul—

I'm really, _really_, usually not so…dramatically feminine, as my brother so kindly reminds me every once in a while.

She's so beautiful. I can't believe she's here…in my bath, in my palace, in my _life_.

I smile my most charming smirk, even though she won't see it.

Game, indeed.


	4. Oh, perhaps you're right

_

* * *

_

Author's Note: Dedicated to

_**Djorlcc,Gertyfull Angel, RedVeinRoses,**__ and especially __**Eris Hanaka**__ (I can't thank you enough for those generous comments! HUGGLE I set to work to put the finishing touches to this chapter right after I saw your reviews)! Thank you for reviewing so kindly._

_Well, thank you very much for reading, and please do let me know what you think!_

* * *

_Four_

* * *

I'm squinting quizzically at the gold-plated sandals that have magically appeared out of, well, _nowhere_, it seems. Along with a very elaborate and elegant set of bow and arrows.

I really do not like where this is going.

Slowly, I slip a little bit deeper into the water, thankful for the numerous petals with thick foamy bubbles, careful to keep only my shoulders above the waterline.

I don't hear anything, but I realize that it does not necessarily mean that someone is not in the same chamber with me.

I'm slightly chagrined to find that, most probably, a male has walked in. I feel certain that it's not my husband. Serpents don't have limbs that could hold sandals and a bow. Or perhaps my husband is a special case of a serpent. Really, who knows?

It's actually a very nice bow; perfectly arched, gracefully long, and adorned with simplistic flair. I may not have seen very many bows and arrows in my lifetime, but I could tell that these looked quite expensive.

I think I'm rambling. Where are my wits now that I needed them the most?

"Hello, love."

I jumped. What was with the surprises today? I still can't see anyone around me. I _could_ tell that the speaker was a man: his voice was deep, strangely charming, and tinged with royalty.

"…Y-yes? Who is this?"

"Your lord."

Oh, so it _is_ my husband.

I'm greatly relieved that he doesn't seem to be a serpent.

I hear gentle steps making their way near me. I still can't see anybody around me, which is really quite unnerving. Was my husband also like the servants? Only breezy, bodiless existences?

The water in the spot next to me ripples, and I realize in fascinated horror that the man—my husband, was entering my bath.

I really, _really_ do not like where this is going.

* * *

She's staring with a very humorous expression at where my legs enter the bath.

Her eyes are wide and the full, sculpted contours of her lips are dropped in this surprised little circle. She can't stop blinking and her brows are furrowed.

She has ridiculously long eyelashes.

I don't bother to shrug off my robe and I sink completely in the water. My clothes are wet and seem to cling to me in quite the unsightly way, but I don't give a care. The water feels very nice, and I sit a little nearer to my lady.

_My_ lady.

It does have a certain ring to it, does it not?

She doesn't know it, but she's staring at the space approximately between my nose and my eyes. Oh, now she's searching for the body that's occupying her bath. It's _my_ bath, actually. The chamber smells utterly, _innocently_ feminine, but I figure it would be fine if I smell like a rose for the afternoon.

She blinks those resplendent blue eyes of hers, and then:

"M-may I have your name?"

How adorable! She's a shy little thing. And she's stuttering!

It's really such a pity she can't know my real name, though.

"You may call me Lysander."

(I say _it_ with a flourish and hope _it_ doesn't sound as awful as I think _it_ sounds.)

"It's a p-pleasure to meet you, my lord; I am Psyche of t—"

"I know, love."

She blinks again, and her face splits into this small smile. It doesn't quite reach her eyes and the clouds are marring the vast sky under her thick trim of eyelashes. She's still smiling, though.

"Lysander, then."

It sounds like a mask when I think _it_.

I'd give anything to hear my real name coming from those rosy lips of hers.

* * *

I still can't see anyone, and I can practically feel paranoia and doubt crawling up my sides. What if this—_person_ (?) wasn't a _person_ at all?

He places his arm around my shoulders and the middle of my back and pulls me gently into him—at the least, I can rest assured that my husband _feels_ like a physical man. It takes a bit of time for me to realize that I'm spread across the front of his chest like spilled ink on a scroll. I don't know how that happened.

The good thing is that only my shoulders and collarbone are visible.

I quickly retract my hands from his chest and shoulders (he feels quite pleasant under my fingers; warm, sturdy and safe) and clutch them to the front of my chest. It's quite embarrassing that I've never been in such close contact with a man before (except my father).

His arms surround me completely and his fingers curl around my shoulder. (His arms also feel warm, sturdy, and safe; he feels…_reliable_, and, well, strong...) I'm quite sure that my face is positively pink all over.

I practically _feel_ his laughter—the amusement is bubbling deep in his chest.

He has a very pleasant laugh.

Until I realize that he's laughing at _me_.

I've never felt this—_this_ embarrassed before, and I open my mouth and t—

"Oh, no worries, love. You can touch." This time, I practically feel him _smirking_.

So, at this point, I'm _completely_ positive that my face is _red_ all over. But, well, what can a lady do when her lord speaks to her in that manner?

* * *

I take great joy (and pride) in the fact that her face is completely red (including the tips of her ears, actually) all because of me.

I'd never make anyone blush like that before.

Hmm? What about the women I frolic around with?

I don't have time for them. It's no fun playing around with nymphs (mortals aren't beautiful enough to catch my interest…except for Psyche). The nymphs are all used to the art of wooing a woman (_cough_Apollo_cough_) and practically ignore casual charms.

And they aren't worth the trouble of shooting an arrow through them.

Now, of course, if I unleashed all _my_ charms upon them, the nymphs wouldn't stand a chance.

Oh, I'm straying from the matter at hand. She looks adorable even though her face is as red as an apple.

I slide my arm from her shoulder (while keeping another hand there) down slowly, trying extremely hard to make sure that I'm still an, a, gentleman, was it?

Her skin feels like the finest, smoothest chiffon. Hot to the touch.

Yes, I do know what chiffon is. Yes, I know it's odd for a male to know what chiffon is. It is a side effect of having an extremely vain and bossy mother.

Her ears are actually completely red now, but the blush on her face is receding a bit…

Maybe it's best that she doesn't look directly at me like that. I know what would happen to me if she did. And what would happen to _her_.

My hand arrives at the slender curve of her hip and I rest my fingers there. I push her closer to me until I feel her stomach against mine, and she finally gives in.

Her hand rests above my pounding heart and it literally skips a beat.

She's really, _really_ smiling now (a very shy curving of her lips) and her eyes are filled with the utmost wonder.

She smoothes the folds of my wet robe and the heat of her hands are burning pleasantly into my chest. Her fingers are quite long.

When she lifts her head to find my face with a smile (she's looking at my chin), I'm completely unprepared for the tremor that rakes my body.

She's _willing_ to let me hold her even though she can't see me and hasn't the foggiest clue who I _really_ am.

I want to reward her.

* * *

I smile at him.

It's been such a long time since I've felt this excited, but it's a…_new_ kind of excitement and anticipation I'm feeling; oddly, it's one that I've never felt before…one that sends trembles of _anticipation_ all over my body.

I wonder if he's really my husband. My lord was supposed to be a serpent…

But even though I can't see this man, I know that he's a kindred spirit from the gentle way he's holding me…

Oh no, I'm beginning to blush again. I've probably humiliated myself and he's probably regr—

What is he doing?

Is he…

Is he really…?

Is he…

_Kissing_ me?

I don't know for sure, but there's something warm and smooth on my mouth, and I _think_ that's his nose touching mine…

And it's as if a small tremor crackles into life right at my lips and spreads all throughout my body, and…

I think…

_Oh_…

He is kissing me!

I'm deliriously happy; I'm finally being kissed! Someone finally _wants_ to kiss me!

But…but, how should I respond?

Oh—

He smells divine. Like meadows and sweets and…

I should c-close my eyes, right?

Do I—

I move my arms up higher to his shoulders…

I r-r-really want to k-kiss him back, but I've, I've, I've n—

I feel s-so infantile; n-n-not knowing what to do…

_Oh_…

…S-s-should I o-open my m-m-mouth?

This feels…wonderful. And—

A p-part of me is…a little a-a-afraid of the…emotions I'm feeling…

M-maybe I should…relax and t-take his lead…

Is he really…a…a…s-s-serpent…? T-t-the oracle—d-d-don't serpents…usually have f-f-forked t-t—?

W-What if he's _not_ my husband? I s-should make sure—before I r-r-respond! I d-don't want to b-be…unfaithful…to my true husband…e-e-even if he's r-r-really a s-serpent…

I…try to…lean…back and—

Oh, no…

* * *

I feel the smooth curves of her lips melt under mine, and…it's like _nothing _I've felt before…

Oh, I've kissed more than my fair share of beautiful women. But, nothing, absolutely _nothing_ compares to this…

So I kiss her…softly, just a touch, a mere meeting of the lips, (even though I really would like nothing better than to unleash my bottled passions), but, apparently…

Has she _never_ been kissed before? With those lips of hers? And those charming eyes of hers?

I can practically feel the heat of her blush emanating from her cheeks to mine.

I'm glad that I have the honor of giving her first kiss. I want to reward this, too, somehow, so I kiss her with a bit more passion…

Extremely gently, very, _very_ delicately though, I don't want her—

…She's pushing against my chest and…leaning back.

I lift my lips a little off hers and open my eyes.

Her eyes are the shade of a ripe, barely-violet blueberry...and, still, I take pride in the fact that the fruits of her eyes are hazy and unfocused, like the small, faint fogs of white on a real blueberry…

She's looking at me with…fear? Sadness? Her breathing seems shallow and rough, but I can't hear much over the sound of my pounding pulse.

…When was I so dramatic?

I feel my insides twist into a knot, but I still hold her close. She doesn't resist; she just peers somewhat quizzically at me.

Her gaze is drifting across my brow…close.

"A-a-are you…t-truly my h-husband?"

"Really, I am, love. I want nothing more than to be with you…"

I truly do want to be by her side until the end of time. Even if I couldn't.

She's blushing so prettily, and I can't help but wonder...

"T-t-the oracle s-said that, m-my lord w-was supposed to b-b-be a s-s-serpent…"

She's smiling!

My grin is so wide, I just hope it doesn't split my face in two.

"Hmph! You believed the oracle? It's just a poor drunken dear muttering whimsical nonsense."

It really is just that, the oracle. It does deliver a true gist of things, but…

Her eyes are huge! Almost doe-like, even.

"You shouldn't insult the oracle…!"

"Oh, pish posh. Why, would you rather your husband to be a serpent than a charming figure such as me? I'm really wounded, love."

Again, I take great pride in knowing that her smile grows because of me. The blush on her face is darker now, and even though it clashes slightly with her reddened lips, I still think she looks quite becoming.

"W-w-w-well, I d-d-do p-prefer you, b-but I—"

"Don't worry, sweet. I'm your rightful husband."

* * *

I smile easily and clasp my hands around his neck. My hands lightly brush against his hair…

There's a strained and uneasy tone to his voice, though. I squirm guiltily, sliding my hands down to his chest back to where they were before, and wish that Mother should have told me about this in her hurried "Wedding Night" lesson…

"I'm so sorry for r-resisting you…It was the l-l-last thing I wanted to d-do, b-but I just didn't w-w-want…"

"Unnecessary complications?"

"Yes, that, and, well, also because…I was v-v-very…u-unprepared…"

I wince at my words. I must have ruined the kiss for the both of us…! Oh, this is bad…I never wanted to refuse him!

I can feel the blush creeping up my neck again, and I do hope he forgives me…

He's…not responding. I panic and lift my head up (I definitely need to try to be bolder) to search for his face. I want _him_ to be my husband!

I don't want anyone else!

I'm determined not let him ignore me, so I slide my hand from his chest slowly up…

His skin feels extremely smooth and cherubic—like silk stretched over some kind of heated, sculpted marble…

My hand reaches his shoulder, and I feel that he's very tense, as if he's an animal about to be slaughtered. My heart drops a little, but I do want him to approve of me as his wife…

My hand skims over the sturdy, rounded rim of his shoulders and gently up the side of his neck. A finger reaches his jaw and I cup my hand around his cheek.

I'm so relieved that he leans into my touch and I smile brightly at him. He seems to be much, much taller than I am, so I stand on my toes and tip my head back a slight bit.

I still don't think I can reach him.

My other hand slides up to meet the other side of his face, and I realize he's smiling by the way his cheeks are pinched at the sides under my thumbs.

He holds me a bit closer to him and leans down just enough. I stand on my toes and gently, slowly, try to find his lips with mine.

* * *

I try to suppress my shudders as her hand slides so slowly up my chest. Does she not know what she's doing to me?

Evidently not.

My heart jumps a beat when she reaches my jaw—I can't let her touch my face!

Relief washes over me as her soft, warm hand stays and holds my cheek with a tenderness I've never had the grace of feeling before.

Smiling, I lean into her touch in an effort to let her know what she makes me feel.

I'm mesmerized by her smile and the clear starry gaze of her eyes.

She stands on her toes and I can't help but notice that a little of her comely bosom has risen from the bubbles.

I try to bottle a groan. Her slender neck and collarbone are n—

She's trying to kiss me!

My smile grows and I finally give in a little to my itching hands. I tighten my hold around her and tip my head down slightly for her.

Her eyes are sliding shut and her lips are actually heading to the left edge of my lips. I adjust to a better angle and meet her mouth with mine.

Fireworks, explosions…

I still try to be extremely gentle with her, but I don't think I can resist my own passion for long.

However, she's the one that tastes my lips first.

I return her actions and prod apart the seam of her lips—she tastes a bit like the sweetness and purity of a natural, undiscovered spring in the mountains…

* * *

He's responding!

I couldn't be happier.

My hands slide down from his cheeks and circle his neck—he pulls me even closer to him.

_Mmm..._

I can't linger in the position for long, though—I'm still holding my breath, and I'm positive that my face is completely red again…

Fortunately, my fabulous husband understands and we both part our lips from each other—he lands a soft kiss on my nose and I think a blush has started there, too.

He tasted like a mix of the playful, boyish wonder of exploring a room filled with spices, with the mischievous scent of cinnamon and cloves wafting up my senses.

I'm smiling like the lovesick fool that I am.

"…Lysander?"

"...Psyche?"

I'm relieved that his voice carries traces of jest at mocking my own demure tone.

"You aren't…mad at me?"

"No man in their right mind would be mad at you after your kiss, love."


	5. Why, I think so too

_Author's Note: Thanks SOOO much for the generous reviews, friendsies. I love you all! Seriously, they're all so motivating. I'm also really sorry about not updating for so long! Please forgive me. I planned to post on Valentines' Day, but it just wasn't that good. I've actually had this chapter sitting around, but I've been busy, and I really wanted to give you all a really good piece. Also, so sorry about some of the chunkiness in the last chapters. _

_(EDIT: Hopefully the kinks are all gone by now! I've also added some new extra quirks and details. I hope you will go back over them!)_

_Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading, and please do feel free to let me know what you think. Enjoy!_

_(Revamped, 6/11/08)_

* * *

_Five_

* * *

Even the touch of her eyes...seems like physical contact that could be made by those lovely hands of hers; I cannot wait to find out how I would feel when her fingers _really_ flutter across my skin…

I need to stop thinking about—

Well, I find it amusing, how she fascinates me so easily with the most subtle, most passive, and most thoughtless of actions.

Such as what she's doing now: just her smile gives me that content, warm, and delirious feeling. Most of my fellow gods achieve that by drinking some sort of ambrosia.

And that steady drumming of fire, blazing from my heart...straight _down_.

I'm so glad she is to be my wife. Even if I will live well past her age…

I need to stop thinking about that, too.

She's actually still smiling dazedly at me, and although that tilt of her head would be regarded as foolish-looking on most people, she looks as adorable as ever…

"I'd give anything to see what you're thinking in that pretty little head of yours, love."

"Oh! I'm just…thinking that…you are…the most wonderful and intriguing man I've ever come across…"

I must say, it's probably the only time I've ever felt so…happy with _just_ a compliment… (Her gaze is directed just a little bit under my cheekbones)

She really doesn't know what she's doing to me, does she?

"Mmm…I could say the same to you, sweet…You are undoubtedly the most wonderful and intriguing woman _I've_ ever come across…"

I love how…irresistible she looks when she blushes. Her eyes light up with a small dazzle, like the first star that rises in the sky, and the ridiculous childlike length of her glossy lashes flutter with her blinking; her lips in a shy tease, and her cheeks pink, as if rose petals were swept across her fine face…

This time, she giggles, and her face glows charmingly…

"Thank you, Lysander…I truly do think you are a most amazing man…"

"Really, now."

"Yes, really!"

"Then trust me, sweet, when I say that you don't know half of how amazing I really am…"

I throw in a naughty wink for good measure.

* * *

I blush and laugh in mirth at the scandalous mischief in his voice; I am truly very fortunate to be blessed by the gods with such a remarkable husband.

I can tell that I will definitely grow to be very fond of him. My senses burn all over with flames of rebellious thrill, exploration, and…something I just can't seem to recog—

The heat spreads straight from my cheeks to my toes.

My hands are in a loop around his neck, and I gently lock my fingers… they brush against the soft feathers of his hair.

I feel…light-headed, floating in a cloud of the sweet spice of his scent, and the passionate invitation of his warmth…

"Mmm…"

He pulls me even closer to him, until my entire body molds just the right way, just for him…there, he rests his head at my neck.

My whole body tingles, and an erratic shiver speeds down my spine—I stand on the bath tiles with my toes, tighten my arms around the span of his shoulders, and try to fit as much of myself as I can into his hold…

I almost giggle when he…delicately rubs his face against my shoulder and neck...but the gesture is so intimate, so caring, and so _loving_, that I can't help but let out a little sigh of content.

He smells divine; lovely and freshly sweet and just a little bit of something like cinnamon…

And he feels…wonderful, too…I can feel his—

I-it's amazing how such a simple embrace does so much to me. I really don't know why or how he has such…influence over me, but I will most definitely dwell on this later.

I almost gasp when he gives me a very soft…kiss, with his lips at my neck—I would have twitched reflexively, if it weren't so gentle and so tender with _feeling_.

His fine hair tickles the shell of my ear.

My whole body melts into his…I relax completely in his arms, and he tightens both his hands around my waist…

I can't help but murmur content and…d-delight into his ear, and he chuckles—I can _feel_ him chuckle—as he whispers against my ear…

"Come on, love. Let's change and get out of the bath…my toes probably look like wrinkled grapes now…"

I laugh, despite the twinge of…disappointment.

Like how the waves of high hopes crash soundly against the rocks, splintering into clouds of white foam…

I can't believe the sheer amount of romantic poetry spouting off in my head. Evidently, I have a knack of losing my sanity and wits around him…

He blows into my ear—I squeal and laugh and twitch instinctively—and, again, he whispers right at my ear (I can feel his nose touching the outer curve)…

Oh, but I don't mind losing my sanity and my wits, if this is what I can feel like everyday…

"I have something else planned…"

I quiver hotly, straight _down_ to my toes—a fresh burst of rekindled fire—and I can barely manage to nod. He gives my body a squeeze, lifting his chin off my neck...and I realize that he has been holding me up by my waist this whole time, with my toes floating in the water and no tiles under them.

I glance quickly down at myself, making sure that I am still somewhat covered (actually, I am now pressed against his own body; I can feel the wet clothes clinging on his...s-s-sculpted chest), and I really hope my face is not as red as I think it is (my whole body is _pink_ all over)…

Oddly enough, it's not only embarrassment I feel.

* * *

I plant a sound kiss on her lips (I don't think I will ever be able to resist her...I don't think I ever should!), and lower her onto the floor of the bath. I'm trying my best to not think about how nude she is, how stunning she looks, and how lovely she feels under my fingers.

Better yet, I wonder how she feels under _my whole body_...

"Now, love, I'm going to let you get dressed, so I can show you around my house."

She nods and smiles at me—how beautifully divine she looks now, with her excited flush and dancing eyes and joyous smile and…

"S-s-shall I meet you downstairs?"

"Wonderful."

I kiss her nose with a comical sound, and blow at the golden bronze hair across her forehead.

I think that I will always love making her laugh like this.

I try my best to peel my hands off her, as quickly as possible, so I can evacuate the room, as quickly as possible. I really hope she doesn't notice the state I'm in now…I don't want her to think that I'm some lecherous old coot th—

She's patting my arm, and…

"You need to change, too; I don't want you walking around in wet clothes…you'll catch some illness that way."

We will definitely be a very happy family.

I kiss her forehead this time:

"Thank you, sweet. I will get out of my robes, and into dry ones. I shall meet you downstairs whenever you're ready."

I hope she's always _ready_ for _me_.

(Oh, please. I just couldn't resist that licentious remark!)

* * *

I usually never take much care in my appearance; I used to think, _whatever for? I am not going anywhere special where I would need to look presentable. And I am not meeting anyone special. _

Well, here I am, letting the maids (I really should familiarize myself with them) do whatever they are doing to me so I can look presentable. Or, preferably, more than presentable.

It's actually rather funny to see my own long hair fly up in the air as they style my head. This is definitely something I could familiarize myself with.

I hope I look nice for Lysander! I must have looked my worst in the bath, with my face bare, my hair piled casually on top of my head, and my dress, well, _gone_.

"Here, Lady Psyche."

We are all in my new dressing room (I like it better than the one I had at home). I stand, pushing back the plush chair the maids have seated me in. There's an enormous mirror next to me, and I quickly gather my skirts to see my reflection.

I like my dress.

The color is a lovely, pale lilac, and the material is wonderfully soft. It's like nothing I've seen or touched before! The gown stops at my toes and has a slight flare to it. I like the elegance.

I peer closer at my face; truthfully, I'm not very interested in cosmetics, and I usually don't like wearing it. I think it feels very uncomfortable, as if a multitude of substances were plastered heavily to my face. But I don't think the maids plastered a multitude of substances on my face.

I think they darkened my lashes, or something. Maybe more.

Yes, I know, countless marvel at my "beauty." Men give me titles ("Oh, beautiful, most fairest one..."), and every woman loves admiration and compliments. But not if one is admired like some divinely beautiful object a skilled craftsman has made.

I used to wonder: why was I cursed with the beauty that every man loves, the beauty every one adores and envies, the beauty that has set me apart, th—

Either way, it's really no time to be thinking of such things.

Today, my hair was curled (at my mother's orders); it usually trails down in waves to my hips, but my hair stops at my stomach today.

I hope Lysander finds me attractive! I have never met anyone who has treated me the same way he has. No one has ever touched me the same way he has.

Oh! I can't believe I'm blushing again. I suppose I'd best not keep him waiting.

"Thank you all. I'll be with my lord by myself from here."

I can tell the maids are rearranging my hair one last time; one of them pats my shoulder briefly (more like, a breeze of warm air brushes my shoulder) and says:

"It is no surprise that you were chosen, my lady. I wish you enjoy your time with Master Lysander."

I accept her compliment with a wry smile and exit the room.

I hope I don't look as nervous as I feel.

* * *

How is she so beautiful?

I don't know what the maids did with her, but her eyes—so breathtakingly…beautiful.

I can't believe that a woman like her exists on this very earth! I am so grateful that she is here, in my life.

I smile brightly. I can practically feel the happiness bloom in my face.

"Hello, dear."

"H-hello, my lord."

She looks so shy, with her fair skin awash with that lovely berry shade across her cheeks…

I stride quickly towards her (she just descended from the steps) and gather my lady in my arms. She feels, smells, and _is_ so wonderful.

Her legs lock with mine (I think I'm about a head taller than she is…Psyche is actually quite a tall woman), and I'm really trying my best to refrain myself and wait. The problem is...I can't.

I have to. I should. I don't want to force myself on her in a hurry.

Her arms slide to my shoulder and neck; I tilt my head away from the cloud of gilded curls and to the entrance of her ear…wow, that sounded like s—

I shake away the arousing, graphic whispers in my head, and tell her the truth ringing in my mind.

"You are so beautiful."

She stiffens, and my heart manages to shudder and stop a little.

Before my mind starts wandering around at a frenzied pace (why, why, _why_ has my head stopped thinking reasonably?), she loosens her hold and looks up at me.

Well, she would see the point of my nose. But at this angle, I can see more of her _there_. As in, down the clinging bodice of her dress. Lovely dress, by the way. I like the color, and the cut. I do like the cut very much.

Her eyes look violet now; shimmering violet that manages to match her dress a little. She raises her head and whispers:

"And you, my lord, are a beautiful person."

At this point, my heart is bursting with love, flowers, and sweet sentiments. I really want to reward her for this, too. Being called beautiful never felt so…different. Well, she really can't see me, but I shall dwell on this later…there are more…_urgent_ matters to attend to, now…

Really, she is begging to be kissed. And ravaged in the most endearing way.

But ravaging is for later, of course.

When we have a comfortable bed, and much, much, _much_ more time.

* * *

I miss him already.

My lord had left a moment ago…and here I am, sitting in the loveseat, left alone to my wandering thoughts. I gaze out at the marvelous scenery around me, and it's entirely believable that Lysander is some divine form.

It won't matter if he isn't, though. It won't matter if I can never see his form, his face, or his eyes.

I want to spend my entire life with him. Laughing with him, talking with him, and loving him. I don't care if I can't see him.

Appearances are nothing. Insignificant.

Well, he showed me the _entire_ palace, and I was so pleasantly surprised; we are surrounded by a huge garden! I must admit, I was very shocked when he walked around with me—the vast garden was lively, verdant, and filled with so many gentle creatures.

It was the first time I ever touched an animal! An adorable deer, no less. I look forward to further exploring the garden with him.

There were large fruit trees (with lovely shade) and plenty of flowers. I realized then that I had actually walked across a stone path, when I was trudging up to the palace! The stones were skillfully carved with stories and pictures. I wanted to admire each one, but maybe we will have more time later.

The whole cloud was a disguise for the garden, he said. He wanted to surprise me.

"_Besides, clouds bother me. I would never consent to live on top of a large cloud!"_

The palace shines bright; I see that the pillars were gold, the graceful arches were ivory, and the walls were embossed with silver. Right next to the large dwelling was a running stream, complete with a large fountain! It was beautiful, with little marble cherubs playing with streaming marble ribbons and friendly marble doves. The water was as clear as glass, and as bright as the sun.

"_Your eyes shine as much as the water, love. You won't believe how spellbound I am…"_

I will never forget the way he said those sweet words, and how he touched my cheek…with love and every pleasantry combined. I could feel the emotions that poured from his lips, fanning all over my face…

Oh, and here I am, blushing as red as an apple. I hope he doesn't think I look ridiculous when I flush. _I_ certainly think I look ridiculous when I'm flushed. There's this odd shade of red that spreads from my cheeks to my hairline.

Our time in the garden had ended all too soon. I wanted to plead for him to stay, but I restrained myself. I didn't want to interfere with his business. He needed to go back to his work, he said. Hunting exotic animals for the gods. I suppose that explains the elaborate set of bow and arrows.

"_Tonight, love—please wait for me. I will be here as fast as I possibly can, but it will probably have to be midnight. I may be late, but please wait for me. I wish I could be back sooner, and share an evening meal with you, but I—"_

"_Don't worry, my lord…I will wait for your return."_

I think I would do anything for you, love.


End file.
